Il Cielo

The garden patio at Il Cielo.

Everybody talks about how romantic the garden at Il Cielo is, with its twinkling lights and secluded setting. Located on a quiet stretch of Burton Way in Beverly Hills, it's close to several high-end boutiques -- Pratesi (Italian sheets), Christian Louboutin (Parisian shoes) and the exclusive vintage clothing store Lily et Cie -- positioned to lure the ladies who lunch. Until recently, I hadn't heard anyone say a thing about the food. Il Cielo never warranted a spot in any foodie's address book, though there was a big to-do a few years back when neighbors wanted to close down the garden because the noise was disturbing them.

Like Orso or Le Dome, both of which have been around forever, Il Cielo had its regulars and existed outside of trends and change. Then in 1999, Il Cielo's owner, Pasquale Vericella, hired Vittorio Lucariello away from Primi, Piero Selvaggio's now-shuttered restaurant, where the young Italian chef had made a splash cooking refined southern Italian dishes. In L.A., where northern Italian cuisine reigns supreme, Lucariello's light and flavorful dishes from the Amalfi coast and his native Naples were a revelation.

I wanted to see what Lucariello would do at Il Cielo on his own. Months after he arrived, though, he'd barely had any effect on Il Cielo's stolid menu. My meal wasn't particularly good, and certainly not interesting, which left me puzzled. Why hire a talented chef if you're not going to let him cook? It seemed a waste, and I didn't think Lucariello would stay long. This food didn't come close to what he'd been cooking at Primi.

Recently, I looked at Il Cielo's menu again. He's finally had the chance to write his own menu. Optimistic, I set off for Il Cielo. But while the ideas are Lucariello's, the execution leaves a lot to be desired. Is he even in the kitchen? That night he isn't, my server tells me. For my second visit, I make sure Lucariello is scheduled to be there that night.

Even so, the meal is mixed. The beer batter coating fresh calamari is greasy, and the "zesty" aioli tastes more like Thousand Island dressing. Tomato soup garnished with basil leaves reminds me of V8 juice: it's the quality of the tomatoes. A special salad combines lobster, fig, fennel and asparagus, but none of the ingredients seem to have much reason to be together.

Pork tenderloin with farro salad and grape sounds interesting, but the meat is very dry, and the dish is presented unattractively. My grouper is smothered in those same generic-tasting tomatoes and vegetables, and whole striped bass with fennel is so overcooked that it has the texture of Kleenex. The mashed potatoes that come with it taste old. What is going on?

I'm wondering, again, if Lucariello really is there that night, when the chef strolls through the dining room and recognizes us as patrons from his days at Primi. Would our meal have been any different if he'd realized earlier that we were there?

Just when I think I have a fix on Il Cielo, disappointed more that the talented 30-year-old Lucariello has let down southern Italian cooking, I go back for one more meal. This time the food is wonderful -- two stars at the very least.

We begin with burrata pugliese, fresh mozzarella with a heart of cream perched on feathery frisée and accented with olives and salted red radishes. Carpaccio, in this case warm Angus filet strewn with the prettiest little lima beans, peas and diced potatoes, is drizzled with a lively celery-lemon dressing. It's one of the best versions I've had. Inch-wide rigatoni, cooked al dente, are sauced with peas and bacon that's both soft and crisp, plus a lashing of hot chiles. Wonderful.

Risotto with braised veal cheeks is marvelous, too. It's topped with chunks of melting tender veal cheeks, really more like a main course surrounded with a perfect risotto flecked with vegetables in a rich and gelatinous broth. Even something as potentially dull as tomato stuffed with shrimp is unusually well-conceived -- rosy little shrimp and delicate artichoke quarters cloaked in mustard sauce and stuffed into a yellow tomato. Now this is the kind of cooking I remember from Primi!

Cutting into a golden free-range chicken breast reveals sweet, milky ricotta, set off beautifully by a slightly sweet Pinot Grigio sauce studded with raisins. This time the branzino (striped bass) is fileted tableside, and tastes moist and fresh. It's even better with a little of the deep green parsley and olive oil sauce drizzled over it. The other fish lover at my table ordered Lake Superior whitefish, a special, strewn with baby clams out of the shell in a white wine sauce. Long-boned little lamb chops arrive a bit raw, easily corrected with another minute under the broiler, and nicely accompanied by a rough puree of celery root and a Barbaresco sauce embellished with candied fruit.


Will the real Il Cielo please step forward?

The wine list has needed overhauling for years, and the restaurant could use serious wineglasses if it's going to charge these high markups. That said, I do like that our waiter asks with no nuance at all whether we would prefer tap or bottled water.

The garden is lovely, but if you're ever seated in the dining room, it's hard not to notice the kitschy "romantic" decor complete with badly painted cherubs on the ceiling, tchotchkes everywhere, swaths of fabric and garlands of Christmas lights encased in netting -- and ivy and bougainvillea. The large garden room, open only on busy nights, has a retractable roof that opens like L'Orangerie's, but the entire decor could use some refurbishing.

Desserts mysteriously improved, too, on that last visit. I loved the cannoli filled with a pastry cream and dotted with cherries and served with amarena ice cream. But Lucariello won my heart with his crème brûlée, a mound of custard on the plate encased in caramelized sugar and strewn with sugared rose petals. If that's not romantic, I don't know what is.

From this last meal, it's clear Lucariello hasn't lost any of his skills. If he can be disciplined enough to keep that kind of cooking coming every night, Il Cielo stands a chance of gaining more recognition for what's on the table than who's in the garden.